Handwritten Plea
by Hobbit Fizz
Summary: Hermione and Ron decide to address their ship following as politely as they can with a handwritten plea. Guaranteed to piss off the RWHG Bunch.
1. A Handwritten Plea

Hermione and Ron are now 22 years old, and their friendship has grown to the point where it's time to have… that talk. …. Oh, no, I mean the other talk. With the key-happy 'writers'. 

Disclaimer- Hermione Granger is the pride and joy of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and Ron is one of several prides and joys of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They belong to Madame J. K. Rowling. Not to me… and not to each other.

**ETA:** Enough people have written in for me to have to spell this out: Yes, I know _**Platonic**_ friendship is straighforward friendly love with no other intentions. The use of **_Plutonic_ **was intentional--- Irruptive and unstable, just like R/Hr.

Please stop writing to me about itand just enjoy/ignore the pun... _Sad eyes_

* * *

"Dear… adolescent… hopeless… romantics…" Hermione mumbled as she wrote. She'd gotten into the habit of speaking the words she'd written, just to make sure it all made sense to the final letter writers. She was meticulous that way. 

"That's good… that's good, put that down!" Ron Weasley said, sticking his head over her shoulder, "Oh, you did… … "

"Ron, you're doing that thing again," Hermione said, gritting her teeth and catching a few strands of her hair that had escaped from behind her ear. She'd sort of hoped that it would tame itself as she got older, but it was still the same bushy mane that it was ten years ago.

"Doing what?" Ron asked, making his 'huh?' face. Hermione continued writing, and reading out loud so that Ron wouldn't have to look over her shoulder.

"I'm very happy to see that young people are expressing themselves through the art of writing… and I'm flattered that I am the subject of many many fan fictions… …. But I feel compelled to---"

"Don't mince words!" Ron said, whipping out his own quill from seemingly nowhere and pushing Hermione's hand out of the way, "Here! I'll show you! Stop… bloody…putting... US…. together…you… _pea-brained_…"

"Ron!" Hermione said, shoving the redhead off to one side, "Please! Let ME write it, why don't you?"

Ron pouted pitifully as he looked up at her. The quiver in his bottom lip might have instilled in her a bit of remorse, but he made that face so often these days that she'd built up an immunity to it.

"You don't understand, Hermione," Ron said, "Do you know what they did to us in the last one? … They had us---"

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of the garter and champagne story, Ron," Hermione tried to push the image out of her mind, "But we're not going to get anywhere with them by calling them names or using threats or childish violence."

She pulled her wand out and ran it along the last few unkind words, permanently erasing them from the paper, while Ron bit his lip and wondered if the bag of rotted fish guts he'd sent to every member of an online clique dedicated to his 'love and devotion' (ha-ha) for the Lady Granger counted as violent.

"I feel compelled to address this issue." She continued, "Many of you feel that Ron and I belong together. You misinterpreted our childhood friendship as the seeds of love, and our adventures together as the nurturing it needed to blossom into---"

"Into a flower of romance?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes, "Really, you're beginning to sound as bad as they do."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Into a beautiful relationship," She finished, "This is complete and utter Bullsh--- oh, wait, no…"

She hastily glanced over at Ron, whose eyebrows seemed to be raised about eight inches from where they should have been.

"Hermione, did you just---" He began.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me…" She said, blushing and undoing her outburst, "It must have been that last 'list of reasons' they came up with…that flaming pile of rubbish."

Ron crawled over to the writing desk and leaned his back up against the side. Crookshanks, who happened to be resting at his mistress' feet, raised his head lazily. He gave Ron a disdainful look to tell him that he didn't approve of the smell of the shampoo Ron used that morning, then went back to his nap.

"Completely wrong." She corrected herself, "For the following reasons… … One should always give arguments to back up an argument, Ron. We learned that in law, English, and simple debating rhetoric." Ron was picking at a scab on his forearm, and nodding vacantly.

"For one thing, Ron and I are friends, and our friendship has become so strong that there is no room for romantic love. Plutonic love DOES exist, though rarely written about anymore."

"Do they know what plutonic means?" Ron asked.

"They'll look it up," Hermione said flippantly.

"Really? The same girls who wrote that story where I save you from going away to graduate school in New York City by telling you I love you---"

"Maybe you're right." She quickly added an asterisk and the definition of the word 'Plutonic' to her paper, "Please refer to the bottom note for a definition of plutonic. … I'll just add that in case they don't understand asterisks either… best to cover all bases, is what my micro-economics professor said."

"Yeah, they say it in Quidditch , too." Ron added, not to be intimidated by her doctorate degree in seven disciplines or her masters degree in five other disciplines.

"Realistically, my busy schedule doesn't allow me much time for a relationship with Ron. He needs a lot of love and affection, which brings me to my next point- Ron is already involved emotionally with Harold James Potter. The two have been eyeing each other since they were sixteen, in fact."

"Are they going to believe that?" Ron was skeptical, "They might just accuse this of being one of those fake form letters…"

"Why would they think that?" Hermione asked.

"Er…. No reason," Ron decided to shut up. She didn't have to know about the archives of deliciously debauched fan fiction that had been written about his love life with Harry, and she certainly didn't need to know that he guiltily enjoyed a few of them.

"I realize that this may be a little too much for some of you to be able to bear," Hermione continued, "but Miss Rowling, knows exactly what she's doing. I implore you to stop writing these redundant fictions, as Miss Rowling has confided in me that she feels mounting pressure to have me involved romantically with Ron to appease the screaming masses."

"And I _dont_. Like. Girls. _That_. Way." Ron said, emphasizing each word with a subdued tap of his foot against the floor. "Hey, Hermione, add in that you're a Virgo and I'm a Pisces."

Hermione's eyebrows tweaked up for a moment. "Why?" She asked.

"Well… Virgos and Pisces are said to be opposites- a good match as friends, but highly unlikely as lovers."

For a fleeting second, the quill hovered over her parchment as she weighed the pros and cons of adding in Ron's reasoning. She finally decided against it, as she didn't really want to explain to the hormone stricken fussbudgets the magic user's perfected study of astrology and how it had more of a sway to those with any magical blood in them at all. Besides, the last thing she needed in her mailbox was a stack of whiny letters from girls who wanted to point out that their current romantic relationship (insignificant and unrealistically expectant, no doubt) was with a supposed 'incompatible star sign'.

"Are you writing it, then?" Ron asked.

"Ahh… yes I am. … … I would like to close this letter with a bit of advice to fan fiction writers." She said, "Umm… … ah, yes. Writing is a difficult field to get into, and you all show at least a shade of interest in it by writing stories based on famous works. However, having friends become lovers is a cliché tactic used mostly by sitcoms. Please try being original."

"You know, writers of the Harry and Ron scenario get ridiculed for being cliché also." Ron said.

"Yes, but really, nobody expected it to happen," Hermione said lightly. She didn't seem to notice that Ron looked a bit hurt by her comment.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean…?" He whispered to nobody.

"Original, by the way, doesn't have to be 'for shock value' either. I am referring specifically to those of you who pair me with my old potions teacher, Professor Snape."

"Oh, disgusting!" Ron said, shuddered, "Glad I was turned down for that one!"

"Turned down, or turned over?" Hermione whispered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." Hermione smiled inwardly. Ron certainly didn't have to know about the small but loyal following of Snape/Ron fanatics.

"Hugs and Kisses… Hermione Lockheart and Ro---"

"What?"

"I mean, Granger." Hermione said, wiping off her 'error'.

"Dream on, Hermione. The poor bastard can't even remember his own name yet."

"A girl _can_ dream, can't she?" Hermione asked, turning the paper sideways to that Ron could add his signature.

"I'll send this out when I leave for the pharmacy this afternoon," Hermione said, feeling accomplished, "Hopefully, this will get them to reflect on what they've been doing."

"Just give me the letter," Ron said, casually reaching for the (now sealed) handwritten plea, "I'm going to meet Harry in a bit anyway."

Quickly, but casually, Hermione brought her thumb down onto the letter before Ron could take it away. She gave Ron one of her withering looks that asked "just how dumb do you think I am?"

"What?" Ron demanded, "I'm just offering!"

"Do you think I'd forget about the fish-intestine letter so quickly?" She asked, her half-closed eyes fixed on his.

"Er…"

Hermione got up from where she was sitting and moved towards the front door to put the letter into the 'to deliver' pile. Ron followed her, looking much like a child who wasn't sure if he'd fallen out of favor with his mother. Crookshanks also rose, hoping it was time to go out.

"If you're going to be that way," he said slowly, "Maybe I'd better go before I'm late."

"Have a nice time, Ron," Hermione said, catching the young man in a warm good-bye hug, "Call on me later; tell me how it goes."

"Of course," Ron said, hugging back.

Before Ron was completely out of the door, Hermione asked, "Exactly where are you going, again?"

"I'm just going to pick Harry up from some private meeting he claimed was _terribly_ urgent."

------elsewhere----

On the top floor of a very beautiful apartment complex, a blonde woman with a slightly long nose and a Martha Stewart haircut sat at her desk. She stared, unimpressed at the black haired male who sat in front of her.

There was a long silence. She finally spoke.

"No."

The young man's green eyes widened indignantly.

"But Jay-_Kaaaaaaayyyy_!" He pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Harry," She said, cradling her head in one hand.

"But the audience wants _my true_ _story_!"

J.K. reached for her coffee cup. Realizing it was empty, she got up to go refill it. Harry's eyes followed her like a spotlight.

"Sooner or later the world will find out that it's YOU whose been writing half of those 'fanfictions' about my sex life anyway!" As an afterthought, he added very coyly "It'd be a shame if they found out about the forest of papers you printed off from that _one_ archive, wouldn't it?"

"I can't hear you when you threaten me."

Two steps on her way to the kitchen, she felt a rather cumbersome and warm weight on her right leg.

"Pleeeeease! Please, please, please?"

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I'd be blacklisted! The world of children's literature just isn't ready for a gay couple; now kindly let me go!"

"Just write about that one night I told you about, then? Please? Damnit, you OWE me! I made you what you are!"

"Harry, I'm going to count to ten…"

"How about a kiss?"

"One… two…"

"Just one kiss!"

"Three…"

"No, tongue, even"!

"Harry, don't make me get to five…"

-----

I must admit, I would like to do a little more with this, but I'm in college now. I really had fun writing the ending, though. Ok, your turn! Reeeeview! … Oh, and If I offended any Hermione/Ron shippers… … Eh, well you can privately flame me all you want. _Grabs Vegetarian hot dogs to roast over potential flames_ Come join me if you're an anti RW/HG, or perhaps just a loyal member of the HP/RW Empire.


	2. Responses

Thank you for the kind reviews. Thank you for the flames, too. Leslie, dear, thank you for being my Betaguard.

---

"Go on!" Harry gasped, "Open it!"

He covered his mouth with his hands and leaned forward in an effort to contain himself. He was currently sitting in Hermione's flat with his two best friends, reading the responses to the handwritten plea that Ron and Hermione wrote. Although Harry never usually had a problem with self control, the responses were making him laugh himself into stomach cramps.

"Hang on, hang on," Hermione said, smiling brightly and opening a letter written on black paper. Harry looked up at her expectantly, but knew that she wouldn't start reading until he'd gotten control of himself. Fighting the urge to giggle, Harry leaned back against Ron's torso and folded his arms across his chest.

"Alright… Dear … Dear Fake Harmione… Well! You'd think that they'd have learned how to spell my name correctly by now!"

"Just read it! Harry's about to have an aneurism over here!" Ron said, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend lovingly.

"Alright… Your letter was … s… I think she means 'stupid', but she spelled it with an 'o'. Anyway… Your letter was stupid. Harmione is going to be with Ron WEASLEY."

"No need to shout it." Ron said.

"That's how it's written. And the rest of it is in capital letters now. Bold capital! … Harry is not a … faggit? … Get a life you suck forever love Ron and Harmiane's biggest fan four evah."

"What happened to all of the periods?" Ron asked, "Did they go into hiding when the grammar went to hell?" Harry was shaking with laughter at the thought of that. "And what in God's name is a 'faggit'? Some cheap brand of cigarette?"

Hermione tossed the letter into the fireplace along with the other sixteen the trio had read.

"This one looks good!" She said "Dear stupid face you are a loser with no friends. Get it strate, a woman and a man is supposed to be two-geth-r not the other way. Herms is gonna be with Ron can't Uck that now shut up and die hate forever none of You-are business."

"Uck?" Harry asked, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes, "What's uck? Let me see." Hermione handed the letter over and Harry skimmed down the page. "That's not uck, that's 'you see'. They wanted to save time by just writing the letters 'u' and 'c'."

"That's just asinine!" Hermione said, "It doesn't even make sense."

"You're not supposed to think logically when you're reading these," Ron said, "Because then you start asking yourself questions… such as 'what kind of hurry was he in that he had to abbreviate three letter words?' Let me read one."

"Maybe the asylum they're in sends out mail promptly at four?" Harry mused.

Hermione tossed Ron a letter, which he ripped open eagerly. Harry twisted himself around, trying to see if he could read it.

"Umm… Dear Writer," He said in a mock angry voice, "I think you're the one that needs to stop. … Hooo, this one's full of curse words! … They are … effing going to be together because they effing fight all the … effing time. They need each other, ok? …. Then there's a string of swears and insults… Avada Kedavra, boom you're dead. Signed, someone that knows."

"Someone that knows?" Hermione asked, "I'm guessing that their knowledge doesn't include letter etiquette. Although this one actually had correct spelling from the sound of it."

"You know what they say," Harry said as Ron tossed the letter into the fireplace, "Put enough monkeys in front of a typewriter and one will eventually bang out the works of Shakespeare."

"Typewriter?" Ron asked.

"Nothing, love," Harry said, "Can I read one?"

"May I," Hermione said, handing one over, "This one's relatively light."

Harry opened the letter and pulled out an index card. "Must've been on a budget… "Don't you have anything better to do than to bash Ron and Hermione?"

Hermione waited for a moment, then asked "Is that it?"

"That's it," Harry said, laughing, "One line. All lowercase. Right to the point." He tossed the letter aside, chortling energetically. "I keep waiting to get tired of these, but with every letter, I enjoy myself more. Let's have another one, Hermione!"

"One more, alright?" Hermione said, smiling and picking up a letter, "We're going to rot our brains on these! … Oh, look at this! It's from J.K Rowling's twin daughters!"

"She doesn't have twin daughters," Harry said.

"Exactly," Hermione said, " Dear Author. We are J.K's twin daughters and our mom told me that she plans to put Ron with Hermione because she knows we like them. So sorry, but Ron isn't gay and Harry isn't with Hermione, but keep reading our books! Love, JK's daughters Avadera and Kedavara Rowling."

"You're pissing me, aren't you?" Ron asked, holding his hand out for the letter.

"It's right here is pink and white," Hermione said, handing it over. Ron looked as though someone had asked permission to pick his nose for him.

"Haven't these people ever heard of boundaries?" Harry asked. He'd stopped laughing when he heard that one. Homophobic comments were annoying, but he could brush them off easily. This amount of nerve just got to him.

Ron seemed to know what he was thinking. "Some day, love, the truth'll come out," he said, squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly, "And if not…"

"If not then what does it matter?" Hermione finished. She slid off of her chair and sat down in front of her best friends who were propped up against the couch, "The books are as accurate as Rowling could make them. Aside from that one part about romantic history, they're flawless."

"I know, I know," Harry said. He was still a little upset at J.K from his last visit with her. Maybe he had lost his temper, and he knew he'd gripped onto her leg for longer than was polite, but he didn't think it necessary for her to call her bodyguards on him. And he definitely thought that she could have offered him something to drink after he spent forty-five minutes banging on her front door instead of sending out her Doberman to chase him off.

"Feel like reading another one?" Hermione asked.

"No, that's enough for now," Harry said, "I don't want to wear myself out. Feel like going to a movie?"

"Really? I'd love to!" Ron said. He and Harry didn't live in muggle London. He'd only been to the movies once before with Harry and Hermione and he was still in awe. "Mind paying our way, Hermione? I left my muggle money in my other pants." Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Promise I'll pay for the next two times."

"It's alright, Ron," She said, standing up and offering him a hand to get up, "I don't mind."

"Just don't shout advice to the characters on the screen this time," Harry said, "It's not helpful, as they can't hear you."

"They…" Ron watched Harry and Hermione put on their shoes and coats, "I… I know they can't…"

-------

That evening, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat on the couch of Harry and Ron's living room enjoying hot drinking chocolate, there was a scratching sound at the window. Harry got up to check what it was.

"Do you think that in some alternate reality we would have been together, though?" Ron asked, "I'm just wondering, is all."

"Do you?" Hermione asked, giving him her 'be serious' look.

"Not really," Ron said, stealing a sip of Harry's drink, "I just don't understand what logic people use that brings them to you plus me."

Harry came back into the living room with a bundle of loose papers.

"Mail?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Harry said, engrossed in the stack of paper, "While I was getting it, I noticed that you haven't cleaned the dishes or the floor as you promised."

"I'll get to it," Ron said, "I'll even dry them and put them away." Hermione snorted and coughed simultaneously, then covered her mouth with her hand. "What? I will!" Ron said.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, "The manuscript to the next book?"

"Sort of," Harry said, "J.K's going over her plans for the next book and wanted to make sure she got the sequence in order… … what in the… …"

Harry's brow suddenly furrowed and he brought the paper closer to his eyes.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

Ron stood up to go see what was wrong, but Harry walked past him and sat on a chair. He was hunched over the paper now, mouthing the words to himself as he read them.

"Sweetie, is everything alright?" Ron asked. He crept up behind his boyfriend and leaned over to read what had caught Harry's attention.

_'For book six, you'll be paired up with Ronald's sister Ginny momentarily, as you yourself requested that the details of your love life be kept as close to the original as possible. However, you'll find that instead of going to Ron afterwards, Ron and Hermione will be the ones holding each other instead. I'll probably go with that pairing, using the dialogue from the early days of you romance with Ron. I realize that's not why you wrote it out for me,(thank you, by the way, for the detailed stick figure drawings of you two on holiday) but I've got no choice. Don't try to dispute it either, Harry, it's going to happen, and you know why._

_Cheers,_

_J.K. Rowling_

… Oh boy.

"How…" Harry breathed, "How… oh HELL NO!" He shouted, standing up so that the papers fell all over the floor.

"Want to help me with the dishes, Hermione?" Ron asked, taking her arm and pulling her towards the kitchen.

"But what about---" She began, walking backwards, her eyes glued to the tirade Harry was working himself into.

"Once he starts, it's best not to try to stop him." Ron said.

Hermione watched Harry for a few more seconds, then, without taking her eyes off of him said, "I'll wash, you sweep?"

"Yes. Good. Let's go." Ron said, ducking a porcelain gillyweed that Harry threw.

"DAMN YOU, ROWLING!"


End file.
